Seite:Marsh Wolfe of the knoll.djvu/157

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161

THE CHASE.

"Alas, alas ! O master mine.
And must I give to ears of thine
The tale I bring ! This night accursed,
A storm of desert-robbers burst
Upon our guards, who bled in vain.
Thy gates are forced, thy servants slain.
Thy daughter — o'er the reeking dead
They leaped, and with their captive fled !"